I used to love going to the grocery store. Cooking was one of my favorite things to do, and I relished trying new recipes, especially the ones that I found in my monthly Food & Wine magazine. I strolled up and down each aisle with my list, but I was always ready for inspiration to strike in an unexpected place, like a school of bright salmon fillets or a particularly beautiful bunch of colorful carrots. Inspiration also struck frequently in the ice cream aisle.

These days, I can’t stand going to the grocery store. It feels like a tease, like a promising place that you quickly find out has no breathable air. At our local Whole Foods, you park underground and take an elevator up to the food level. Of course there are stairs, those fancy flights from my past that are now beyond my reach. I roll through the store and I think about how different my purchases are than they used to be. I can’t summon up much excitement for selecting food that someone else will be cooking. So I don’t go to the grocery store if I can help it.

But I did go today, because my sister-in-law is in town to help and I have a policy against sending guests to the store alone. It seems somewhat unfriendly. Read More>